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Ward pecked away. “Looks like we could make ten times what we’d make from selling the bricks of pure coke.”
“This could be our way back into the game,” I agreed, liking where this was going.
“Production’s going to take time,” said Wilde. “We need to get in touch with Jackyl to see how long.”
“Already on it.” Bou typed on her cell phone.
“Problem is,” I said, “I’ve gotta give a word to the Rojas brothers tomorrow.”
Prez nodded. “Diamonds are quickest. Let them know were in on helping disrupt the Barranquilla.”
“Good deal,” I said, relieved to have a direction at least. Standing, I scanned the brothers around our Church table. “While we’re at it, maybe we could blow off a little steam tonight. Like that party you all had back in the Ridge.”
Wilde smirked. Even sitting next to his pregnant old lady, my brother was there. “It’s been a while since we’ve partied up at Red Rock.”
“Not since we patched everyone into The Ridge MC,” said Graff.
“Done. Who brought the whores to that party down your way?” I asked Wilde.
Bou’s phone rang.
“Jackyl will know. He used to ride with the Ridge Rats.” She sneered when she said the last but pressed her cell phone to her ear and said, “Hey, Jackyl. Two questions.”
Prez’s old lady marched away from the rest of us, talking to the patched member from Arizona and looking quite grumpy.
I couldn’t give a shit, ’cause I was soon going to be in heaven.
High out of my fucking mind.
Cock buried deep in a whore.
It would take off the stress and cure my raging headache.
This was why I was in the MC.
Chapter Twenty-Two
GRAFF
By the timethe Prez dismissed Church, the men were rowdy, but I only watched Sas. The party was his idea, sure, but he didn’t look happy. The gears were moving in his head, hidden under his stoic face. It was a look I knew all too well. Usually, it meant danger or that he was going to go off on some solo half-cocked plan.
The bell rang in the clubhouse, calling everyone out of their hiding places for the ride up to the canyon. The guys’ voices bounced off the walls and ceilings, calling out for their favorite sweetbutts.
Shorty stepped out and her face lit up when she saw Ace.
He wasn’t a prospect or member, but Angel had made him the honorary doc in LA. I didn’t know if he even owned a bike though.
“Sas?” I asked.
He spat into an old Coke bottle, brown spittle running down the insides.
My stomach lurched, but I managed to swallow my gag. “Thought you were quitting that shit.”
“Stress, brother. Whassup?”
Before I could answer, Adelina poked her head out, “What’s going on? I heard the bell. Are we under attack?”
“Attack?” the Veep scoffed. “That’s our cattle bell, little princess. We’re on the move.”
